Love her Madly
by Rubber-duckiesofdoom
Summary: Ron loves Hermione, to the point of madness, even though she left him. Oneshot to song 'love her madly'


_Don't ya love her madly_

Yup… that's the word for love. Mad. Seriously. I once (I was very little, mind you) snuck into Ginny's room. Ok, I'll admit it – I was curious. So I nicked one of her romance novels off her bookshelf. Hand down, of course. One reason I couldn't afford to do research a more efficient way than stealing teeny-bopper books was our money. I figured that Ginny was a girl though… I thought that all those books about love (however old they were) would answer all my questions. So…. I read it. And to be quiet truthful, I loved it. I don't know why. I always said to myself 'Imagine if that could happen to me. I would love to be a hero someday and have the love of my life always waiting for me'. Well, I guess now I've been a hero. How could you be friends with Harry Potter and not end up saving people's arses. Hell, he has to take care of the world. So we get to help him… the world is pretty damn big at times. Back to love though – It's not a fluttery feeling in your stomach. The world does NOT light up with fireworks every time you see your soul mate. There is no music reaching its dramatic climax in the back-round.

Well… ok. Maybe I'm lying. Maybe there used to be. Hell – not maybe. I know it. Every time her eyes lit up when she learned something new. Every time she smiled. Every time she played with her hair, insisting she hated it. I loved that hair. The blush that tinted her cheeks pink the first time I ever kissed her. No matter how sloppy that kiss happened to be (and, let me say, it was.) Maybe love used to really feel nice. Perhaps magical. That is, when I was smart enough to know how to keep her…

_Don't ya need her badly_

Need her badly? Hell… I'd die without her. I don't know how to freaking survive without her. And I'm not just talking about emotional crap… I'm talking about how she always knows what I was talking about in the morning when I mumbled in sleep-talk. How she knows just how I like my coffee, and when it should be ready in the morning. She was… everything. Always there. Even when we were fighting, whenever I would truly need her, she would be there.

There is some 'emotional crap' in this part too though. She was my soul mate. At least that's what I believe. Sure, I hated her for a while. I wanted to chop off her smart-ass head. Sure, she was a prat when we were on the train for the first time all those years ago… but… I always did feel an aweworthy electricity generating from her. Something I could only hope she felt from me.

_Don't ya love her ways_

Her ways. They were cute in an entirely obnoxious way. How she insisted on studying for tests months before. Homework the day we got it. Even with jobs – she pushed me and Harry to send in applications early to everywhere where we could ever imagine working. I had always had this great vision that we would all three of us be recognized and immediately become aurors. BS is all I have to say about that. Harry got a place on the Chuddley Cannons. Needless to say, it was difficult to tell who was more overjoyed by this, him or me. But then. Then, Harry got kicked out for using charms on himself to make his game better. Ass. How could he do that?

Hermione's the head of Magical Cooperation. Bloody brilliant, she is. Got to the top after two months in the department. I swear she'll be the effing minister some day.

Me. I'm an alcholic. I know. Ron Weasley? Alcohol? Ha. Not possible. Yet, somehow, it is. I started drinking after the final war. So many losses. A nice glass of ale would always summon me. And another. And another. It's my daily phyciatrist, one might say. However, I might as well be having a love affair with the phyciatrist, for how my family treats me. The asses just don't understand.

But she did.

_Tell me what you say_

What I say? I say that I'm the thickest man alive. I finally find love. I get off the alcohol. Stop messing with things I shouldn't be messing with. I get to live a normal life with a beautiful and loving girl friend.

And then. Then I… well, you know. Started fooling when she didn't want it. Maybe I lost my temper a bit. That's what she said. But I don't believe it. Slowly… very slowly, the magic got sucked out.

Our love was dying. Whatever we did, it always tripped and fell. Again and again.

_Don't ya love her madly_

I love her more than words can tell. I would jump off a cliff for her. I would kill myself if it resulted in her safety. It sometimes scares me even. I tell myself 'Ron. You weirdo – she's not even your girlfriend anymore. She doesn't love you. She doesn't even know you. Move on with your freaking life.' But I can't. She's too damn important.

_Wanna be her daddy_

I miss it so much. From the sweet kisses to the lust-filled looks we would give each other. That never happened with the other twits I've rebounded on. Nope. She's the only one for me.

_Don't ya love her face_

Every time I see that face on the newspaper I want to scream. I miss it so much. The way it would change with lightning speed to match her mood. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, and her forehead scrunched when she cried. The way she would always wiggle her ears when she was bored. Then, the way that it turned when the fire started to run out of fuel. I wanted us to be some sort of Hannukah miracle. That no matter how long, we would somehow last. However, it seemed that things like that were only on request. And we hadn't called for a miracle reservation beforehand.

_Don't ya love her as she's walkin' out the door_

How could I let her go? She was everything. EVERYTHING! And now, she's nothing. Because of a stupid fight. That got physical. That turned emotional. That well… pushed the limits. Before I knew it, she was packing her bags. I tried to sweet talk her out of it, but she was my Hermione – stubborn as anything, that girl is. Even as she slipped out the door, mascara smeared down her cheak and eyes red, I loved her.

For some reason, I loved her more than I ever had. I was screaming bloody hell at her. Begging that she return, that she think about what she was doing. She just turned the door knob and walked out the door. Perhaps it was awe that made me stand there for at least an hour, thinking about how strong she was. Only after the feeling wore away did I start sobbing. Only after did I realize what I was so impressed about. I was impressed she had left me. But I knew I was crazy to let her.

_Like she did one thousand times before_

She's threatened before. She's told me she hates me before…. Hundreds of times. But somehow, this was different. She had truly closed the door connecting us. Then, locked it. Then melted the key. And put up gates around. She slowly stepped out of the lives of people whom we'd affected or still talked to. I heard tell in the newspaper that she moved. It didn't say where to. She was smart, tricky, and worst of all, she knew me. And she knew how to fool me too. To try to put it into words, it was as if she had never existed. She erased herself from our pictures. Every single one. And our friends all grew distant, nervous to continue our relationships without one of the key ingredients – it was like a batch of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies without the sugar.

_Don't ya love her ways_

_Tell me what you say_

What do I say? Is that a real question? If I could say it all to her – I would. I would try to tell her I still loved her. That I needed her. Maybe she would come if she heard. But she'll never hear. Cause she's not here. She never will be again. And she'll never see the ring that was hidden in those pants. That I carry around. She'll never see me kneeling down, to ask for her hand. She'll never hear or see anything about me anymore. She's made it quite apparent she doesn't want to, so why shouldn't I honor her wishes?

_Don't ya love her as she's walkin' out the door_

More than ever, I loved her guts, her brains – her in general – when she walked out. That was my Hermione. The only problem was that my Hermione wasn't coming towards me, lovingly. My Hermione was fearfully closing the door between us.

_All your love_

_All your love_

_All your love_

All your love 

Indeed, all my love. It had been sucked away. Now, every time I speak to somebody whom was connected to my past, I break down, or start yelling. It's as if now that a key part of my past – the girl I had hated, teased, loved, envied and admired was gone. She was my past. There's nothing without her. I'm nothing without her.

_All your love is gone_

_So sing a lonely song_

_Of a deep blue dream_

_Seven horses seem to be on the mark_

I'm so lonely without her. I live in a dreamlike trance that the alcohol neither brings me out of nor deepens. I breathe. I eat. I hold stiff conversations with my family. Why I don't kill myself, I don't know. I feel as if I'm dead already. But though I feel as if death looms close, I still hold on. To what? I don't know. I hold on to a piece of hope in that ring in my pocket.

_Yeah, don't you love her_

_Don't you love her as she's walkin' out the door_

_All your love_

_All your love_

_All your love _

I don't know what it is to love anymore. It's as if I'm a shell. I'm like a dementor – devoid of life, of love, of feelings. I'm simply functioning in the most simple way. She stole my heart, and didn't give it back.

_Yeah, all your love is gone_

_So sing a lonely song_

_Of a deep blue dream_

_Seven horses seem to be on the mark_

And now, I'm standing here thinking about death. It's the first real thing I've thought about in a long time. It's welcome for some reason, too. Perhaps thinking reminds me of her. But now everything with her is numb. But I know I won't kill myself. I'll just keep living, hoping. For something to happen.

_Well, don't ya love her madly_

_Don't ya love her madly_

_Don't ya love her madly_

They'll probably take me away and tell me I'm crazy. I don't mind. She'll know, somehow. And she'll know I'm just madly in love with her. Maybe she'll return my heart. Maybe she'll keep it as a prize. But my Hermione doesn't keep prizes of war. She just has them without knowing it. Or wanting to. But what does it matter to her? She probably has a real life. She probably has forgotten about me. She probably doesn't even remember that I'm madly in love with her, and might be needing my heart back. She probably doesn't care, either.


End file.
